Legendary (Caraval #2)(35)

IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE ENGAGED TO THE NEXT EMPEROR, YOU’LL NEED TO DRESS LIKE IT.

Tucked inside with the message was a small card with a thorny purple border.



* * *



Minerva’s ModernWear

Clothing the progressive half of Valenda,since before the Elantine Dynasty—and we’ll be dressing them after as well.

By appointment only.



* * *



On the back of the card someone had scrawled the words Satine District, along with a time, which had been crossed out and rewritten:




The order was almost laughable, given how little Jacks seemed to care about his own appearance. But Tella imagined Jacks’s directive to appear wasn’t so much about appearance as it was about possession: he wanted to make it clear that she now belonged to him.

Demon was too appealing a word for him.

If this engagement had been real, this note alone would have convinced Tella to break it off. But that wasn’t currently an option.

Inside the box, Tella found a pair of elbow-length nude gloves with blue-pearl buttons. She tossed them to the side and pulled out the matching dress beneath. She hated how lovely it was. How the neckline was off the shoulders—a style her father never let her wear. He’d have turned absolutely purple at the sight of this dress. Covered in sapphire-blue lace that clung to a nude shell, the gown was delicate and feminine and a little scandalous all at once.

Tella still wanted to ignore the appointment and throw the dress aside along with the gloves; she didn’t like the idea of Jacks dressing her up like his doll. But her trunks still hadn’t arrived. And Jacks had made it clear that to save her mother and her life Tella not only needed to win the game, she needed to be a convincing fiancée.

Beat … beat … beat.

Nothing.

Beat … beat … beat.

Nothing.

Beat … beat … beat.

Nothing.

Her heart wasn’t slower than when she’d woken up, but it wasn’t faster, either. She tried to eat a rushed breakfast and then hurry to the carriage house, but her everything was slightly sluggish.

It took more effort than it should have to keep alert as her coach landed. Perhaps that’s why Tella found herself standing on a street teeming with bloated shadows, searching for Minerva’s ModernWear.

Though Tella had yet to explore the city, she knew all about the different regions of Valenda, the illicit Spice Quarter, the brazen Temple District, the imperious University Circle, and the elegant Satine District. The last was where Tella was supposed to have been. One of the more glamorous parts of the city, the Satine District was said to be a labyrinth of glistening dress shops, hat shops, and sweet shops, all soaked in petal-fresh colors.

But, either Tella had her facts wrong or she was in the incorrect place. The shops around her were as dark as an unkindness of ravens, packed between alleys that smelled of unmentionable things, and full of patrons who were far from the genteel sort she’d expected. Clad in her delicate gown of sapphire-blue lace, Tella looked like a character who had wandered into the wrong story.

As she searched for Minerva’s ModernWear, Tella observed lots of fantastically gaudy jackets, overly amorous couples leaning against lampposts, women smoking pungent cigars, and lots of exposed corsets in harsh hues—burnt oranges, overripe yellows, bruised blues, and ruddy reds.

Every other post had painted signs tacked to it. Some had the word Wanted printed above a picture. Others said Missing Person. A few surprisingly decorative ones announced the advent of Elantine’s Day, though they appeared as out of place as she must have.

Tella resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest and reveal her discomfort as she passed a series of poisonous shops.

Mandrake’s Medicines—To Kill Nasty Colds, Maladies & More

Fausto’s: For all your Fennel, Feverfew, and Foxglove Needs!

Hemlock & Hawthorn’s Herbery

She was certainly not in the right district. This looked—and smelled—more liked Valenda’s infamous Spice Quarter, where people traveled when they wished to purchase contacts for assassins, untraceable poisons, people—or just certain body parts. It was also a home for gambling pits, drug dens, and brothels. None of which were legal in Valenda, so they all existed belowground in primeval passages, accessible only through passwords and hidden doors from the exotic spice shops above.

“Not sure a pretty thing like you should be on these streets alone, even in daylight.”

Tella took a nervous step back, though the woman who addressed her looked too old to cause any harm.

The crone had to be at least five times Tella’s age, with wrinkled hands stained with ink, and gleaming white hair that nearly reached the ground she swept. Back and forth, the old woman wiped all the dirt and grime away from the front steps of Elantine’s Most Wanted.

Tella loosed an uneven breath. The Spice Quarter might have been a stranger to her, but this ramshackle store called to her like an old friend. It was the same place where she’d sent all her letters to Jacks.

Tella had never actually been certain if it was a genuine business or merely an address people used to ferry illicit requests and letters. But clearly it was very real. She’d seen Wanted posters for criminals tacked throughout the quarter, and apparently they’d all come from here.